


Acts of Love

by LazyWriterGirl



Series: Femslash February 2017 - I Write Best When I'm Writing Gay [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Also I Have Been Writing at Subpar Levels and I Am Sorry, But Lost Something As a Result, F/F, Femslash February 2017, Morgan Tries to Help, Nah Saved Morgan's Life, Nah and Morgan are Cute Fight Me, Recovering from injury, prompt fills
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:58:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9907769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyWriterGirl/pseuds/LazyWriterGirl
Summary: a·lex·i·aəˈleksēə/nounnoun: alexia1.	the inability to see words or to read, caused by a defect of the brainOr, Nah almost dies saving Morgan’s life, but her act of love is not without repercussions.Femslash February 2017  Prompt 7/12 - Alexia





	

Her head hurts and at first, she can’t see anything. Her eyes, she’s later told, have been practically glued shut for almost three months now. That’s how long she’s been unconscious. How long she’s been laid up in a fancy cot in the Castle Ylisstol infirmary.

Months.

When asked, the last thing Nah can say she remembers seeing is the sight of Morgan caught between two large, ugly Risen. Even when she opens her eyes she can still see the crackling of dark energy as Robin struck the Fell Dragon down. The last thing she remembers feeling is Morgan’s cuirass against her hand as she pushed her lover out of harm’s way, and the blinding pain of a blow to the head that had sent her crumpling form to the ground. That’s the moment that had caused all of this, her parents say.

 

Apparently, she’d almost _died_.

 

She’d almost died, and—according to Miss Lissa—had spent the last two months and three weeks lying unconscious in an infirmary cot in Castle Ylisstol. It’s something of a miracle that she’s here now, alive and awake, and surrounded by loved ones on all sides. Her mother and father smile down at her, tears in their eyes. Lucina and Lady Tiki hover at her feet, serene, though clearly relieved smiles plastered on their noble faces. Cynthia is there, too and Brady—who looks like he’s trying very, very hard not to start bawling.

And of course, Morgan is there, in her father’s robe and with her same silly grin, and Nah feels—though the throbbing in her head is mostly unpleasant—much, much better. As soon as her eyes fall upon the other girl’s, Morgan’s grin fades—if only ever so slightly—and she is bawling and apologizing and everybody else is silently watching. It’s a moment long-awaited, apparently. “I’m sorry, Nah, I’m so sorry!”

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says automatically, and she reaches her hand down until she can touch the softness of Morgan’s hair. She can’t imagine how hard it must have been for her girlfriend to have to see her unconscious day in and day out, thinking that it was her fault when really, Nah had only done what was natural. Morgan sobs again, burying her face into Nah’s side, and everybody else is silent.

It’s as if they’re all waiting for her to disappear or something, the way they watch her so carefully, but eventually they all begin to speak, almost all at once. They weren’t sure that she’d make it— “I _knew_ you would!”—and they still aren’t sure what the side-effects of the blow to the head might be, if any exist— “No matter what I’ll stand by you!”—but at the very least she is awake and, as Miss Lissa declares with a happy smile, the worst of it ss over.

“How does your head feel, Nah?”

“Not too well, Miss Lissa,” she says, because her head aches and her vision is a bit blurry and really, she should be getting these things checked as soon as possible. “My head hurts…and my eyesight is a bit blurry.”

Her mother gives her shoulder a squeeze as her father places a gentle hand on her head. The relief on their faces is poorly concealed, but she doesn’t mind; she feels awful, having worried them like that. Nah smiles into their touches, but honestly, she just wants a chance to rest properly. Truth be told, her entire body aches—but that’s something only for Miss Lissa to know. She wouldn’t want to worry everybody else.

“Hm. Okay, I’ll see what I can do,” Miss Lissa says, and she all but shoos everybody away from Nah’s bedside. “You can come and see her later. Don’t worry Nowi, Donny, I’ll call you first. Oh, and you too, Morgan.” Her parents smile and hug Miss Lissa briefly before bowing out, telling Nah that they love her and promising gifts for when she’s recovered.

“Thanks Miss Lissa!”

At the blonde woman’s fond smile and shooing gesture Morgan drops a kiss on Nah’s cheek, ignoring the blush that has spread across Nah’s pale skin. In her birdsong voice, she promises that when next she sees Nah there will be gifts of flowers and chocolate, and Nah laughs until her sides are aching from the effort of the action. Miss Lissa shushes her with a motherly tut of her tongue, and soon Nah feels the effects of the princess’ magic passing through and around her body.

At one point Miss Lissa holds up a piece of paper, asking her to read what’s on it, but Nah, already more than half-asleep, cannot bring herself to do so. Miss Lissa pats her arm and tells her that it’s fine, that she’s still recovering. Some things, Miss Lissa says, take a little longer to come back.

 

With that reassurance, and the pleasantly cool tingle of healing magic surrounding her once more, Nah falls asleep—but properly this time—and is in and out of this state for days more.

 

During a period of wakefulness, Nah asks Miss Lissa why it is that she sleeps so much, with the princess’ response being, “You almost died, hon, it’s going to be a while before you’re able to do what you used to. This is your healing time, Nah; just go with what your body says it needs.”

Nah does exactly that even though she really just wants to get up and out of bed every so often; the only balm for her boredom during this period is that Morgan is right by her side.

In fact, Morgan doesn’t leave her side unless she absolutely _has_ to, something for which Nah will be forever grateful. Nah need only lift her head from her pillow and Morgan is there with a glass of water or a bit of food, or a warm smile and a question in her eyes. With Morgan’s help—and occasionally with the additional assistance of Morgan’s mother—Nah begins to recover at what Miss Lissa deems an impressive rate. Soon she’s well enough to be taken out for very brief walks about the gardens, her manakete strength proving an asset as she needs only rely on Morgan and a slim metal cane for assistance.

 

It is summer in Ylisstol, or at least the beginnings of it, and as she and Morgan follow the flowered walkways she thinks that she is very grateful to be alive today. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” she says as Morgan walks by her side. The younger girl—“only by a few months!”—rests her head against Nah’s shoulder, and the half-manakete slows down just enough to accustom herself to the new position before continuing along at her normal pace.

“You don’t need to apologize, Nah. Worrying about you is my job, isn’t it?” Morgan asks, and Nah nods, looking down at the place where her ring adorns Morgan’s finger.

“It is, you’re right. I just meant that it can’t be easy for you, hovering around me all the time while my body takes forever to heal.”

“It was my fault you got hurt in the first place. I wasn’t watching myself and you got hurt protecting me!”

“Hey,” says Nah, turning so that their eyes meet at least slightly, “I’d do it all over again if it meant keeping you safe, so shh. Don’t mention it again, Morgan. I’m not angry with you. I love you.”

Morgan kisses her in response, quickly, as if she’s nervous, and she says, “I love you, too.” They walk in silence for a little while, accompanied only by the singing of birds, before Morgan decides to speak again. “You’re looking better and better every day,” she says, grinning as she lifts her head from Nah’s shoulder. “And anyway, Mother and Aunt Lissa think that by next week you’ll be able to go home, if you really want to!” One pale hand searches for Nah’s, and Nah intertwines their fingers the way she remembers them doing even as little girls, before Grima destroyed their world and sent them here.

Nah smiles. Going home would be nice. Honoured though she is that she has been allowed to remain within the castle for so long, it does not suit her so well as her own home. Whether that be the village that her father loves so well, or somewhere else entirely, she does not care.

As long as it is a place of her own, Nah will be content.

After all, she is no princess, and the halls of Castle Ylisstol, though familiar in their own way, cannot boast of any special attachments in her heart. Though the care and the food are excellent, and the surroundings are lavish, Nah wishes, more than anything, to be somewhere familiar; somewhere surrounded by trees and her books and what few things she’d brought along to help remind her of the world from which she and the others had come. “That would be amazing.”

“Mhm,” says Morgan, picking at a stray leaf that had fallen amidst the breeze to adorn Nah’s plaited hair. “And do you know who they’ve chosen to act as your nurse?”

“Hmm,” says Nah, reaching over to catch a piece of dandelion fluff from where it hovers just over Morgan’s shoulder. “Could it be…Cynthia?”

“And what help would she be outside of keeping you cheery? She’s never used a stave! Try again,” says Morgan, shaking her head.

Nah pretends to think once more, “Is it Brady?”

Morgan laughs, “Brady…is kind of scared of you still, you know that, right?”

Nah can’t say she doesn’t know that, but she’s also sure that Morgan is joking—at least partially. After all, Brady has never been anything but kind to Nah, and especially so since she and Morgan announced their relationship. “Okay…mmmmh…no? Not Lady Emmeryn herself?!”

“ _Nah_ …” Morgan voice drawls out her name and she laughs, shaking gently as they continue along the path.

She’s only teasing, and she’s sure that her girlfriend is aware of this, but the way that Morgan shakes her head with fond exasperation is such a treat that Nah just wants to keep on throwing nonsense suggestions out there. Instead though, she merely says, “Okay, okay, I’ll stop. I’m glad that you’ll be with me, Morgan.”

“Of course I’ll be with you! And the nursing thing just made sense; I mean, who else is going to take care of you the way that I will?”

Nah laughs, because nobody could care for her quite the same way that Morgan will—nobody _knows_ her the way Morgan does, after all; knows her habits, her likes and dislikes, the best way to soothe her. Even with the lack of improvement to her memory, Morgan knows everything about Nah. She’s learned it all over again, through the days, weeks, months of travelling and fighting and healing.

And so far she hasn’t forgotten a thing.

Yes, Morgan is probably the best choice to be her nurse. Not that any official decision otherwise would have deterred the other girl from spending all her time around Nah, but still. Nah will have to thank Miss Lissa and her future (past?) mother-in-law for that at the first chance she gets.

She smiles even more brightly as they walk back towards the infirmary, feeling stronger already. Morgan hums a little song for her—“I just know I’ve heard it somewhere before”—and together they tiptoe through the storied hallways of the castle. Nah feels good despite the dull throb of pain shooting across her hips and flaring most unpleasantly behind her eyes.

There are letters, just short little things—words of encouragement from her parents, she thinks—but she’s too tired to read them by the time she settles back down into her cot. She eats dinner with Morgan, and they talk until Miss Lissa says it’s time for Morgan to go home and get some rest of her own. Nah kisses her girlfriend goodbye, knowing that the first face she’ll see in the morning will be Morgan’s, and as Miss Lissa casts a few spells to help her sleep more soundly through the night, she smiles.

 

Her life is slowly, slowly inching back towards normal.

 

 

***

 

 

As predicted, by midway through the following week it is obvious that Nah has managed to improve enough that she can and should go home. Home, as it turns out, ends up being a small, clean house on the outskirts of Ylisstol. “I bought it with the money Father…left me,” Morgan says, brightness dimming just a bit at the mention of her father. Nah pats the other girl’s hand—she knows how much it hurts Morgan that Robin has vanished.

“It’s charming,” she says, and she means it, because the house really is just the most adorable thing; it’s eclectically designed and brightly painted, reminiscent of Morgan, really, and Nah loves it even more when she stumbles across things of hers strewn about the place—on the couch, in the bedroom, on the bookshelves. Her books, her knick-knacks, they all appear perfectly at home in Morgan’s space.

Nah loves that, and she says as much, winning a shy smile and a kiss on the cheek.

“I knew you’d be coming here eventually, and I wanted to make it feel like it wasn’t just _my_ home, you know?”

“Thank you,” she says, excited at the idea of sharing a home with the girl she loves. “So…what now?” Nah asks, looking about her in wonder.

“Well…Mother and Aunt Lissa did remind me that you need to take it easy. No stress. Nothing too active, because your wounds still aren’t completely healed…oh! Why don’t you read to me?”

Nah laughs, “Sure, that sounds like a good idea. What do you want me to read?”

“Anything!”

Nah laughs again, back-stepping until her back comes into contact with the shelves that house the rather appealing variety of books that she and Morgan have amassed between them. Her fingers trace over familiar spines even though she hasn’t yet taken her eyes off Morgan. She doesn’t quite know how any of their books have survived the roughness of the campaign trail, but she’s not about to question a lucky thing like that. Not about to question Morgan and her mysterious ways.

“Want something happy?”

“That would be best,” Morgan says, smiling, and Nah agrees, turning to the books she loves. Glad that she hadn’t died; glad that she has the chance to do this—to read a book with the girl she loves most in the world. She looks up, running her fingertips once more over faded spines. The glyphs spell out titles she’s loved for years, or heard about from Morgan, or…wait.

Nah peers up towards the book that she’s taken down, a story she knows back-and-front. It’s the same cover, the same weathered pages…but she can’t read the title on the spine, nor the words that she _knows_ to be present when she opens the book up to a random page.

Immediately, Nah knows that something is wrong.

If she focuses hard enough, she can make out—but just barely—what she is sure _must_ be a letter here and a letter there. But the words…the words are completely indecipherable. She puts the book back on the shelf, reaching out instinctively for another, and then another. Each one yields the same results. She knows that there are letters on the page, letters which make words which make up the stories that she has loved—or has yet to love—for so long.

 

Stories that she can’t indulge in or share with Morgan right now, because, as she realizes with what is akin to dread in her heart, she cannot read.

 

Morgan is by her side the second that the book falls from her hand, asking if she is hurt, if she is okay. She stutters something about feeling a sudden faintness take over, and Morgan guides her to their room to rest. “We can read stories some other day,” Morgan says kindly as she deftly tucks the blanket underneath Nah’s chin. “You just get some sleep Nah. You’re well, but not perfectly well yet. I’ll go and get you some broth, okay?”

Nah agrees, leaning up so that Morgan can plant a kiss on her cheek, and then she waits until Morgan has left the room before she stares up at the ceiling, deep in thought. She knows that there can only be a handful of explanations…only one, really. Miss Lissa hadn’t managed to figure out if there were any adverse side-effects following the blow to the head that had knocked her unconscious for so long. Morgan’s mother might have had better luck, but she’d never been around for those particular tests.

 

This strangeness with the words, this newfound inability to read, this is probably one such side-effect.

 

Nah resolves to mention it to Morgan when the other girl returns; Morgan will know what to do next.  Minutes later, after downing half a bowl of a warm, simple broth, Nah tells her girlfriend that, “I think I’ve…lost my ability to read.”

Immediately, Morgan’s face is the picture of concern. “What? How?”

“I’m not sure…but it might have something to do with getting hit on the head,” Nah says, and Morgan nods; really, it’s the only thing that could possibly make sense. She looks guilty for a second—Nah knows that her girlfriend still blames herself for Nah’s current condition—but after a beat she looks into Nah’s eyes and there’s a newfound determination there.

“Okay…Maybe Mother could help us. Would you like to go and see her after you rest for a while?”

Nah nods. “Yes, please.”

Morgan smiles and pushes the bowl of broth back up to her lips. The liquid is warm and comforting and even though she is _seriously_ worried about having lost the ability to see words for what they are, Nah has to admit that this whole Morgan-nursing-her thing is already succeeding in making her feel better. “You take a little nap then, sweetheart, and I’ll get some things ready. My mother is one of the smartest people around; I’m sure she’ll know what’s going on with you.”

Nah nods again, because Morgan is (probably) right and Miriel will (hopefully) be able to help her. She snuggles as far into the pillows as she can without completely turning over onto her stomach and burying her face in the softness. Morgan’s hand rubs circles on her arms. Soon she isn’t too worried about anything; blissfully asleep and contented, if only for the moment.

 

***

 

“I’ve heard of cases of this particular phenomenon, yes; it’s referred to by some within medical circles as “alexia”, which is most commonly classified—in the broadest sense, of course—as the inability to see words or to read, caused by a defect of the brain.”

“Could a blow to the head have caused such a defect?” Morgan asks. Nah looks up at Miriel, nodding to emphasize the question. She’s plenty clever, but sometimes listening to Morgan’s mother confuses her. Luckily, Morgan seems to be perfectly at ease with the verbosity—even if she can’t remember her mother outside of that one hazy time she’d called Morgan by name, she seems to at least remember how to decipher her mother’s long and complicated speech patterns.

“It is likely that a blow such as the one sustained by you, Nah, could have caused precisely this alexia which now renders you incapable of reading material with which you were once intimately familiar—or any material at all, for that matter, as your difficulty appears to be in recognizing words completely. Now, I am not a medical professional—though you might remember that my experience with the healing arts is rather extensive given the various positions I was asked to fill during our time as soldiers—but I am a woman of science and would be delighted to assist you in ascertaining the precise breadth and depth of your alexia. Perhaps we might find that a cure is possible for you.”

Nah might have missed about half of that explanation—or perhaps a bit more than half—but she _does_ know that her future mother-in-law believes there is a possibility that there is a cure, and that is good enough for her. As Miriel wanders through her apartments with the haphazard accuracy of a scatter-minded genius, Nah leans against Morgan, fiddling with a lock of short auburn hair. “Sometimes I wonder what you got from your mother, and then things like this happen.”

“Hey, what do you mean?” Morgan asks, though she’s clearly amused. “Oh, the whole, “the-house-is-a-mess-but-I-know-exactly-where-my-things-are” thing? Yeah. Mother tends to do that a lot. I’d assume she did it…before…too,” Morgan says. Nah watches her girlfriend’s face, surprised that there is nothing there but a genuine fond amusement as she watches her mother’s movements.

“…is it hard?” she asks, out of nowhere, but not really because she always wonders how life must feel for Morgan. How it must feel to have so many people tell you things about your life that you should know, but don’t. How it must feel not to remember anything from before they were found by their parents of this timeline.

“No,” says Morgan, and Nah wonders if the question she’d meant to ask was obvious, or if the other girl can simply just read her that well now. “It’s sad, sometimes, but I’ve been making memories with everyone, right? So it’s not like I’ve got nothing.”

Nah opens her mouth to say more, but Miriel comes bustling back into the sitting room with sheaves of paper in her hands. “Morgan, my child, I’m going to require your assistance in administering a series of tests to determine precisely how the alexia has affected Nah’s brain, and to see if there are any countermeasures which have been tested and proven to improve one’s condition upon developing this _fascinating_ abnormality. Not that you’re abnormal, Nah—now, Morgan, was that display of physical irritation really so necessary—outside from being the only half-manakete in existence and so on—not that that is _abnormal_ so much as just _decidedly rare_ —but you know what I mean and that I mean no offense, right dear? Good. Now, look straight ahead at the card I’m holding up and tell me what you see.”

Nah complies, mostly because she’s not even sure of what’s happening but has no reason not to, and she squints a bit, concentrating hard, before she’s rewarded with the sight of a large _shape_ on the card in Miriel’s hand. For a few awful minutes, she stares, at a loss, but something in the back of her head tells her that she knows what the shape is. She stares some more, unnerved by the silence surrounding Morgan and Morgan’s mother.

About five or six minutes later, something clicks in her head. “It’s…the letter A?” She looks over to Morgan, who smiles at her for a quick second before saying something to her mother. Miriel nods, mumbling something under her breath. She and Morgan turn to each other and start chattering animatedly about something that Nah can’t quite make out, so she sits and waits.

Miriel had said that she’d be administering a series of tests so…

Really, that’s all that Nah can do for the moment.

 

 

 

By the end of the tests, she’s tired, but hopeful, because Miriel seems to be happy with the results. She doesn’t want to ask though—she’s afraid. What if she’ll never be able to read again? She hopes that there’s something to be done…anything would be better than not being able to recognize the words at all.

“Now, I’ll need a few days to go over the results and cross-reference them with data previously acquired on the subject, but from what I can see—though I am not, as I’ve said, a professional in this particular field—you’re suffering from pure alexia, which is sometimes referred to as word-form dyslexia, amongst other things.”

“Does…that mean I’ll never be able to read again.”

“Unfortunately, I do not have enough scientific evidence or experience in this particular area to answer in one way or another with any confidence…but I assure, Nah, I will do the best I can.”

Nah flushes, embarrassed. She doesn’t want to work her future-mother-in-law this hard if she can help it. “A-as long as you don’t push yourself too hard Miriel! I…I know you’re very busy, and it’s very good of you to help me…”

 “Of course I am helping you, Nah,” says Miriel, and she surprises the half-manakete by pulling her into a tight hug. “We’re going to be family someday, are we not? The very least that I could do is offer assistance to the girl who has treated my amnesiac daughter so very, very well.” Miriel smiles warmly, hugging Morgan as well before shooing them off, reminding Nah to take it easy. “I’ll be in touch with you as soon as I’ve come up with some clearer answers, girls.”

 

***

 

The missive appears for them only three days later, and they’re back in Morgan’s mother’s home almost immediately after they’ve finished eating their morning meal. Miriel appears to be a bit frazzled—something that Morgan doesn’t seem too concerned about, meaning that Nah shouldn’t feel _too_ guilty about being the cause of this—but her demeanour is as charmingly detached (Nah thinks it’s charming, anyway) as ever she ushers them into the parlour.

“Any luck, Mother?”

“Morgan, you know that _luck_ has very little to do with scientific research such as this.”

“Right, sorry, Mother,” says Morgan, winking at Nah before asking, “Has your research turned up fruitful then, Mother?”

“Indeed it has, dear; in fact, it was _most_ edifying. My hypothesis surrounding the nature of Nah’s condition has been proven correct.” Turning to Nah, Miriel smiles and says, “You are indeed suffering from pure alexia, Nah, but it is rather mild, as you proved that you are still able to write words—though you cannot recognize what you have written afterwards—and you are still able to recognize words that have been spelled out verbally. I believe that you also exhibited some ability to recognize some written letters—though not with any sense of ease, I noted.”

“So…is there any chance that I might be able to read again, in the future?” Nah asks.

“Definitely not with the same speed and leisure with which you once did, I’m afraid,” says Miriel, and a look of true, genuine compassion appears on her face, “But there is a good chance that you will be able to work around this condition to regain _some_ of your ability. I’m sure that my daughter and I will come up with something to help you in this endeavour, as well. After all, anything for family…or rather, soon to be family, as the case may be in this particular instance,” Miriel says, and the smile on her face is very warm. “Isn’t that right, Morgan?”

“Yeah! See, Nah, I told you my mom would help! Thank you, Mother!”

“Don’t thank me just yet, dear,” Miriel says, though her smile widens. “After all, it will be a long, difficult process, getting Nah to learn to read again. There is a method of letter-by-letter reading that has been developed for individuals with similar cases, and that is what I would like to try.”

Morgan sticks a hand out, and her mother places a sheaf of papers in her daughter’s grasp. As Morgan reads, she pauses to look up at Nah and smile, muttering things like “promising” and “this will work” until Nah is so curious she forgets where she is. She hovers over her girlfriend’s shoulder only to be reminded that she can’t _read_ the reports that Morgan is scanning so very quickly.

“May I take this home to study, Mother?”

“Of course, Morgan,” says Miriel, smiling at her daughter. “I’ve transcribed a copy for myself and will continue to look into ways to encourage Nah’s learning.”

Nah can feel the gratefulness welling up within her, and though she knows that it is rare for her future-mother-in-law to feel comfortable with others initiating physical contact, she cannot help herself. “Thank you so much, Miriel!”

To her surprise, Miriel returns her hug before sending them back home, citing the need to “commence further research right this second”.

 

Back home, Nah manages to wait until Morgan has gotten about a quarter of the way through the stack of papers before thinking to ask what exactly it is that her girlfriend’s mother had supplied them with.

“What do those say?” she asks, quelling the voice in her head that says that she would have been able to read them herself had she not suffered her injury. She’s pained by the loss of her ability to read, yes, but having Morgan here, safe and sound, _that_ is far more important to her than anything.

“It’s a detailed teaching process for the method Mother mentioned. I’m going to study it really well and then I’m going to help you, so that you can learn to read again.”

“That would be wonderful, Morgan,” Nah says, throwing her arms around her girlfriend’s neck. Morgan turns to place a kiss on her hair before picking up the stack of papers.

“Hey, you saved me, now it’s my turn to save you in whatever way I can, right?”

Nah laughs. “Is this your version of an act of love?”

Morgan turns away from the papers once more, to look Nah in the eyes. Once more, Nah is reminded of how _little_ she regrets throwing herself between the two very large, very strong Risen. Once more, Nah does not regret saving Morgan’s life, even if it has led to this condition, this alexia, that has rendered her incapable of reading.

One of Morgan’s hands comes up to cup Nah’s cheek, and she leans into the touch as Morgan sighs, the sound soft and affectionate.

 

“Of course it is.”


End file.
